Fade to White
by robin8395
Summary: Max is just an ordinary girl- until she's abducted from a local track by the Scarecrow, and later ends up in the hands of the Joker. More chapters up soon! Note- name change in chapter three.
1. Into the Storm

_Boom. Boom. Boom._

_The noise echoed through the dank, ominous hallway. I was completely lost. The place vaguely reminded me of the video I had seen of the Eastern State Penitentiary. I sprinted down a short corridor and I was suddenly in a square room._

_The room had a single light hanging from the ceiling. There was a table in the center, and on that table was an undersized knife._

_I heard a deafening chuckle. I couldn't tell if it was coming from somewhere close or from a distance, because of the echoes._

"_You've fallen into my trap, huh, Meggie?"_

_The loud booming noise continued. I turned in circles, attempting to figure out where the voice was coming from. "Where the hell are you?" I screamed into the abyss that was the darkness ahead. Another noise caught my attention. Ping._

_The pocket knife flicked off the table and spun into the shadows. I heard a footstep as someone picked it up. I finally realized that the booming noise was my own heart._

_The person who had picked up the knife started towards me. His face was suddenly illuminated in the light of the almost-out lamp. My heart felt like it had completely stopped out of fear._

_A bone-chilling laugh filled the room. The knife was suddenly against my left cheek, the sharp, cold metal cutting into my skin._

"_Why so serious, Meggie?"_

* * *

11:15. Only fifteen minutes until the end of my practice.

I had done endless sprints, with a short break in between sets, and I was exhausted. It was an unseasonably hot April Saturday, with the temperatures peaking in the mid 80s. The trees had returned to their rich emerald color and the grass on the hills was no longer a sickly, muddy brown. I was really happy that my dad had left me at the track. Enjoying these more frequent spring days was one of the things I enjoyed on my own, and I needed to think some things through without distractions. Since there were a lot of people at the track, and my friend Sheridan was there, my dad had simply dropped me off and went to a nearby Subway for lunch.

I slowed down after a short 100 meter sprint. Pain shot up my head. I was getting sick, there was no denying it. Strep was making its rounds again and I had already caught a cold from the frigid weather that took place the previous few days. I was dead tired already, and even just another lap would make me feel even worse. _Screw the fifteen minutes,_ I thought miserably. _I'm going home._

I packed up my track bag, its only contents being my water bottle, some sweats, and my iPod. I had figured I would just sit in the bleachers until my dad arrived from lunch, but I started to get bored and wandered into the parking lot.

As I traversed the sidewalk, I looked up and gave a little flinch. A black car was idling in the parking space closest to the track entrance, and ever since my Joker dreams had started up, I couldn't even look at black cars. The dreams didn't occur frequently, but when they did, they were nightmarish and I often found myself dreading bedtime for the next few nights. Most of them involved the Joker threatening my family at gunpoint, with me begging for mercy. The dream that I had last night had scared me so badly that I had just given up on trying to fall asleep. I hadn't even told Sam, who was the sole friend I confided in whenever the nightmares came up. She lived in the Chicago suburbs, which were over 800 miles from Connecticut, but we were still best friends.

I tried to ignore my memories and stared up at the clear sapphire sky.

I quickly decided to change into my normal clothes, which happened to be a pair of jean shorts, beaded flip-flops, and a University of Illinois tank top. My hair was actually straight today, and although it was a bit unkempt from my running, it looked fine for the time being. I sprinted over to the high school (despite the comatose state of my legs, it was so warm outside that I was desperate to get out of the heat) and came out fully dressed. I took my post again behind the bleachers.

A few minutes later, I took a glance at the parking lot and the black car was still idling. The windows were dramatically tinted, so I couldn't tell if someone was inside or not, but I had that funny feeling that was similar to the feeling I got right before I failed my 7th grade midterm: total dread. I only had ten minutes until I was to be picked up, but I felt like I couldn't wait that long without becoming absolutely terrified. It was a bit of an irrational fear, but it was still heart-pounding.

I was thinking about this when the car stopped stalling and began to drive slowly towards the spot where I was standing. It braked jerkily, stopping a few inches from my feet. A dark, chilling voice sounded. "Get in."

Suddenly it hit me. The Joker and Scarecrow were the most vile people in Gotham, and lately they had taken to abducting people from public places and holding them for ransom. They had ended up swindling families out of millions of dollars this way, and most of the time, they ended up killing the victim anyway. They also tended to "recruit" people to help them with their dirty work. It was all over the news, which was pretty frightening since Gotham was about an hour from where I lived. You would think they would have been captured by now, but most of their actions were untraceable. Whoever was in that car had to be one of them, I was sure of it.

Weird things had been happening to me lately, besides the dreams, that is. I had been seeing playing cards everywhere, and there seemed to be someone following me or watching me wherever I went. The most recent event was a noose found in my bedroom, but I didn't dare tell anyone that, not even Sam. I had stashed it in the forest behind my backyard as quickly as possible.

I snapped back to reality and remembered the fact that I had been spoken to. There was no way I was getting in that car. "No,"I mumbled in reply, and then realized that my voice was inaudible. Normally I was loud enough, but under the circumstances, my voice refused to cooperate with me. "What do you want?!_"_

A gun was suddenly in my face. "Get in and no one gets hurt."

_A bit cliché, don't you think? _I thought to myself. I remained rigid.

"I said get _in_!" A gloved hand pulled me by the neck of my shirt into the car, and I landed in a seat. The car's interior was leather, and it was dark enough inside so that I couldn't see the driver.

"Let me_ out_!" I screamed. The same gloved hand clamped over my mouth, and suddenly there was a spraying noise. _Shit, it's the Scarecrow!_ I thought frantically. The spraying had to be the trademark toxin. It was odorless, but it had devastating effects. I had seen it several times on the nightly news. I tried not to breathe in, but eventually I had to take a breath, and I unintentionally inhaled a huge whiff of the toxin. A masked face appeared over my head. My suspicions were confirmed, and just as I figured this out, huge spiders began pouring out of the eye holes in the mask, their fangs inches from my face. I began to hyperventilate. My breathing was coming in short, erratic gasps now. I could just barely make out what the Scarecrow was saying to the driver.

"It was a small dosage. She'll come out of it by the time we get to the headquarters."

I was trying not to scream, but I couldn't help it. "Holy _SHIT!_" I shrieked repeatedly. The furry black spiders were everywhere now. I could practically feel them crawling up my arm. I knew it was all in my head, but that wasn't much of a comfort.

Scarecrow sighed. "Would you shut _up_?!" he said, exasperated. "If I had known she was going to squeal like this, I wouldn't have selected her."

While he continued to complain to the driver, I was slowly losing my grip on reality. I felt like I was watching a movie, but unlike horror movies I had seen in the past, this was real and happening to me. My hands curled into fists and I clung to the sanity that was left in me. The car was moving, but I was too far gone to guess where we were headed. Everything was fuzzy around the edges, and right before I passed out, I heard the dark voice of Jonathan Crane.

He chuckled. "Sleep..."


	2. Knowing is Half the Pain

I briefly awoke from my delirious state after what seemed to be hours. We were still in the car, and I could see the lights of the highway out my window. Strangely, I didn't feel the least bit groggy. Even so, I decided to pretend I was still passed out, just in case.

A mere ten minutes later, I estimated, Scarecrow gave me a shove. "The toxin's worn off. Let's go," he said roughly. He opened the passenger car door and I finally realised where we were.

The sky was a deep black. Colossal skyscrapers dotted with lights decorated the skyline, and a diminutive shoreline lay a short distance away. I immediately knew- we were in Gotham City, the most crime-filled city in America.

I started to fall over as I stood. The toxin's effects hadn't fully worn off, and I was a bit dizzy. I quickly made an effort to steady myself as Scarecrow began to pace towards an abandoned warehouse. "Keep up," he mumbled just loud enough for me to hear. He was obviously pissed with me somehow, but I wasn't going to bother to think about how so. I was slightly surprised that he didn't have me tied down or guarded or anything, but he probably knew that I was smart enough not to try to escape.

Scarecrow entered the brownstone building through a barely noticeable door. He held the door for me (an action that I had hardly expected from a serial killer) and motioned for me to follow him through a brightly lit corridor with the same wall material as the hallways at my school. It was a bit of a comfort to see that, but there was no escaping the fact that I had been abducted by one of the most notorious criminals in Gotham.

We briskly walked for a few minutes until he unexpectedly made a sharp turn into what looked to be a prison cell. "Sit," he said, his voice outright hard. I assembled myself on the small wooden chair in the center of the room. He then pulled off his mask slowly, gave me a chilling smile, and snapped his fingers. Before I could even wonder what the snap meant, I was tied down to the chair. "Let's begin the therapy session, shall we?"

My eyes slammed shut. How did I get into this nightmare? I had heard rumors around school about his "therapy sessions". Most of them involved his trademark toxin and more than a few ended in murder. There was no way I was going to live through it. "No, dammit, there's no way I'm _ever _going to do any of your freak sessions," I pronounced, as clearly as I could possibly say it without bursting into tears out of fear.

Scarecrow's eyebrows went up. "Oh, really? Are you sure about that?" He held up a minute vial filled with a translucent liquid. "I'm not afraid to use this."

I gulped back a sob. "There's no chance in _hell_," I whispered, my voice barely audible. He frowned in response. Obviously he wasn't expecting that response.

"Alright," he mused. "I have something else in mind." He held up a camcorder. "This isn't among my... usual methods... but I think it'll do for you." He nodded at one of the recruits behind him. "Get the syringe and venom ready."

"What are you going to do to me, if you don't mind my asking?" I tried to keep my voice even, to let him know that I wasn't scared.

"Oh, you'll see in a moment. It's a very effective way to gather funds, let's just say that." The man appeared again with a syringe filled with the fluid. Scarecrow nodded, and the guy walked towards me. I kept my best I'm-going-to-kill-you glare on my face, my eyes never leaving my kidnapper. Scarecrow followed the guy and stared into my face, his blue eyes depicting visions of utter horror. "Are you ready to give your family your best and final regards?"

The murderer in front of me turned on the camcorder. A feeling of stabbing pain crawled up my arm as I was pricked with the needle. Almost immediately, spots began dancing before my eyes. And then, about a second later, horrifying faces began popping out of nowhere, animating themselves in front of my head. It was like watching The Grudge 2, animated in 3D and in an IMAX theater.

Bringing myself to remember it is hard, since I tried to block most of it from my memories. I do remember that I was able to process what was going on around me, even though the terrifying imagery was taking over my mind. That was probably the worst part of the poison: every moment, I thought about my parents seeing this video. Even worse was the possibility of my little sisters viewing it. What could they be feeling at this moment?

After this moment of reflection, I let the waves of dread pass over me and slowly sank into unconsciousness for the second time in the last day.

* * *

When I awoke again, I was in the same room on the damp, stone cold floor. Everything seemed the same as the previous night, except a TV had been placed in the corner opposite me. The news was on, and the date at the bottom of the screen read April 29th, 2009.

Crap, I'd been out for two whole days! I turned my attention to the television screen, curious as to what I had missed.

The news reporter shuffled his papers around a bit as he finished up a story about a baseball game and the image cut to another reporter. "Two days ago, 13 year old Meggie Abney disappeared from a Connecticut high school track. The Scarecrow is suspected in the kidnapping, and unfortunately, there are no leads. We will keep you updated-"

The reporter was suddenly cut off as the screen slashed again to another reporter. "This just in: we've received a disturbing video from the Scarecrow himself. He has indeed kidnapped Meggie Abney. See for yourself."

The screen went all fuzzy for a minute, and suddenly a black and white image of the event that had taken place appeared. I looked surprisingly resilient, even though I was tied down to a chair. Suddenly, I began to tremble, and screams ripped out of my mouth. The view of the camera remained trained on me for a few moments, and then I heard his voice.

"One hundred thousand dollars. By Friday. Or this innocent girl gets a gruesome ending. You know where to find me."

I winced. _Why me?_

As if reading my thoughts, Scarecrow strolled into the room, his awful mask still on his face. "I'm not really going to kill you, of course," he smiled. "You're going to be working for us psychos here in Gotham."

I shut my eyes and shook my head violently. "You monsters are the reason Gotham is such a terrible place! I will _never_ work for you!"

He exhaled. "I shouldn't have used that wording. You'll be working for a _friend_, per se. He requested you." I must have looked confused, because he rolled his eyes and continued. "That's all I can say for now. You're leaving in ten minutes. It's sudden, but the ransom is only up for four days, and after that's over, I need to stay low key. You'll see," he chuckled. I could only guess what he meant.

The Scarecrow was bad enough, that was for sure. But the Joker was the worst of the worst. He would do more than just hurt me mentally.

I wasn't positive that this was the man that I was being handed over to. After all, the Joker wasn't big on trying to get money- the victims were usually just chosen for working purposes or for his enjoyment. He had a sick mind, and there was only one place for people like him: Arkham. Being put in his hands was basically a death sentence. There was really no point in hoping for survival.

As soon as Scarecrow left, I rested my head against the cinderblock wall. I was emotionally taxed, but the thing that bugged me most was the question running through my mind:

_When is this going to end?_


	3. The Weight of the World

A few moments later, Scarecrow walked back into the room. "We're leaving," he mumbled. I sighed and stood up.

We left the same way we came: down the hallway and out the side door. It was about nine o'clock, I estimated, because the sun was just going down. A large white van was waiting, the kind that the kids I used to babysit for got scared of. After tying a blindfold around my head, Scarecrow got in the driver's seat, and I took shotgun. "It's the policy," he murmured in response to my frowns at the black cloth that had gone around my head and over my eyes.

The van lurched forwards, and we turned onto what felt like a highway. We remained in the van for another fifteen minutes, and then I heard a click as the van turned off. I reached up to take off the blindfold. "Keep it on for a little while longer," said Scarecrow. His voice sounded distracted.

I carefully got out of the car and felt a hand on my shoulder. Scarecrow guided me down what felt to be some sort of parking garage. It was like a trust exercise gone wrong- I really had no choice but to let him lead me, but I would never have any reliance in a serial killer. Eventually I felt flooring under my feet instead of pavement, and after another five minutes, we made a right turn and stopped.

Before I could take off the blindfold, I was pushed into a metal chair and tied to it. I felt someone tie a cloth over my mouth, and my blindfold was removed. I was in what looked like a conference room. My chair was at the head of a long table, with several other empty chairs around the table. A TV stood at the other end of the table.

Scarecrow was gone, and in his place was the Joker. He stared at me for a few seconds, his horrid face fixed on mine. "So _you're_ the lovely girl I've heard all about," he said quietly. He removed a tiny knife from his jacket pocket and gave a ghastly smile. "And I'm sure you've heard all about me. So we're going to cut to the chase." He chided. "I'm not in it for the money. Or the fame, for that matter. I'm proving a point with this one. And the point is..." He held the knife to my face. "One life is worth far less than a thousand lives."

He flipped on the TV. "Back to you, Kathy," the peppy blonde on channel 2 chirped.

Kathy shuffled her papers a bit. "We have a disturbing story for you tonight: Thirteen-year-old Max Abney is being held hostage by the Joker, and he's given the civilians of Gotham a choice. If Max Abney isn't dead in 48 hours, the Joker will kill everyone inside a major building. The GCPD has no leads..."

I lowered my head so the Joker couldn't see my expression. A small tear rolled down my cheek. _What did I do to deserve this? I don't want to have the lives of thousands of people on my shoulders..._

"Lighten up, kid," the Joker said sarcastically. "You can't get everything you want. And if you don't end up dying..." His sentence trailed off dangerously. "You'll be working for me."

He then ripped the cloth off my face, which was a bit of a mistake, because after hearing that, I was ready to let my emotions loose. "What kind of an asshole are you, exactly?! What the hell happened that you feel the need to _do _this?! You seriously expect me to-"

A hand went over my mouth. "I'd watch what you say, dear! You, ah, never know what I'm going to do to you!" He wiggled the knife in the air. "It's a dog-eat-dog world, and that's all it'll ever be. Deal with her for now, Claire." He strolled out the door, stopping to flip the knife in the air, catch it, and pop it into his pocket. A girl that I hadn't noticed stepped out from the corner of the room by the TV and gave a little smile.

Claire looked like she was only two or three years older than me. She had raven-colored hair that cascaded down her shoulders in waves. She was impossibly tall and wore a red tank top, ripped jeans, and heels. Her chocolate brown eyes twinkled. I figured that she may very well be the last person on Earth that would want me alive.

"Hey, I'm Claire," she grinned. "You're Max, huh?"

I nodded.

"That's cool. I guess I'm your friend for the next two days, then. Soo... what do you want to do?"

"How can I trust you?" My eyes narrowed.

"Well... for starters, there's the fact that I'm helping you out right now."

"But I-"

"Look, do you want me to help you or not?" She gave a smirk. "We've got a little time on our hands, and it's the boss's orders that I hang out with you for a little while. What do you want to do? We can go to the movies, go bowling..."

"I'd like to get out of this chair, if that's possible," I chimed.

Claire's face reddened. "Shoot! My bad." She untied me quickly and we took a seat on the tabletop.

We talked for a bit, and eventually the conversation began to direct itself toward her.

"So how did you end up working for someone as nasty as the Joker?" I inquired.

Claire sighed. "Things just happen." She sounded like she was steering away from the subject.

"Do you actually like it?"

"Not really, but the boss is pretty cool."

At that moment, my rage was boiling over. _Cool?!?_ How could she call this mass-murderer who had just destroyed everything I had ever known _cool?!_ I was a bit unaware of my actions, because the punch that I threw at Claire's jaw was completely unintentional.

Claire rubbed her face. "Wow. Sorry. Poor choice of words, huh?"

"You think so?" I mumbled.

"I'm really sorry. It's just... I started here when I was ten, and it's kind of felt like home to me. I've got nowhere else to go after school and after parties and stuff. So I guess the Joker kinda feels like a family member." She paused. "A really vile family member."

I gave a soft smile. "Well, let's just forget the whole thing, okay?"

Claire nodded, her eyes sparkling. "Hey, you wanna go shopping? I've got some pretty killer disguises in my room. We can have you looking like someone else in seconds."

I grinned in response. "Wouldn't miss it for the world!"

And just like that, I had made my first friend in the dog-eat-dog world of Gotham City.


	4. Panic

Claire's room was basic, but comforting. She had a small, twin-sized bed with a green bedspread and a wooden desk. Her window had a beautiful view of the Gotham skyline, and I realized that we were within walking distance of Wayne Tower.

Claire rubbed her arm a bit, frowned, and picked up a large metal case. She opened it and shifted through for a few seconds, and finally came up with a bag of wigs, a triumphant look on her face. "So which one do you want? You'd look good in the blonde one." She slipped a bright pink wig over her head and applied some dramatic false eyelashes.

I glanced at the wig skeptically. "These aren't going to disguise us."

Claire gave a mischievous grin and opened a compartment in the case. "But these will," she said, pulling out prosthetics.

I must have looked mortified, because Claire cocked her head. "What?"

I shuddered. "I dunno. All that makeup kinda... reminds me of the Joker. That freaks me out a bit, you know?"

Claire nodded. "Oh... okay. No one will know who you are with blonde hair, anyways." She paused. "Let's head down to the garage. You can pick the car." She put all of the disguises away and we headed towards the elevator.

Once we were inside, I sighed. "I really hate being here," I whispered. It slipped out; I didn't want to hurt Claire's feelings. She didn't seem the least bit offended, though.

"I know. It's hard, living a life like this, but I guess you get used to it. Eventually, you'll be going to school like me and making friends before you know it. And it's pretty cool living right by Wayne Tower."

I blew out through my lips. "Yeah, I guess so."

When we reached the car garage, I selected a subtle blue Sedan. We pulled out of the parking lot, and for the first time in three days, I saw the light of day.

We drove for about twenty minutes before pulling up to an absolutely enormous mall. I was a bit skeptical when I saw the throngs of people outside, but I cleared my head and tried to focus on having a good time.

We had decided on a limit of $200 per person, which would be more than enough to buy clothes for me for quite a while and to update Claire's disguise kit.

As soon as we got into the mall, we made a beeline for Hot Topic. I managed to buy three pairs of neon jeans, two tank tops, and a Batman shirt (which I resolved not to get anywhere near the Joker). Claire salvaged some Charlie the Unicorn T-shirts and an incredibly cool wig. Satisfied, we headed to the costume shop across the food court.

Claire had found a beautiful Victorian-style dress and I had sorted through the clearance rack until I found a mime costume. We were just about to purchase them when a sound pierced my ears. _Bam!_

"Shit!" I shrieked. I recognized the sound as a gunshot. Someone had seen right through my disguise! Claire grabbed me and we ducked.

"We have to go, NOW," she whispered sharply. "There's a back exit out of Lord + Taylor. On three, we run." She counted to three using her hands and we sprinted out of the store.

I was able to catch a glimpse of the gunman as we booked towards the exit. His gun was pointed right at me, and I heard another gunshot. I was able to duck just in time and I heard the shell clatter to the floor.

We reached the back exit in record time. As soon as we were out, I realized that the gunman had followed us. I could see him pushing past crowds of people in a desperate attempt to reach us.

I began to run again. I had managed to reach a small alleyway when I heard a third gunshot. But this time, pain came with it.

"Holy _shit_!" I screamed. He had shot me in the shoulder.

Claire dragged me behind a dumpster, and we heard the gunman pass us in a desperate attempt to locate me and finish me off.

We were just about to stand up so I could get medical attention when I heard a slight _thump_. I looked up in shock.

Batman.

"Get _away_," growled Claire. "We don't need your help!"

"Claire!" I blanched. I could hardly breathe from the shock of the gunshot wound.

"Can she walk?" Batman said in his disguised voice.

"Doubt it," Claire mumbled. Batman stepped forward and gently plucked me from where I sat.

The pain was absolutely searing. I couldn't feel my shoulder. Heck, I could scarcely take in a breath. "Where... are you taking me?" I gasped.

"I'm going to take her somewhere she can get this fixed up without being shot at again," Batman said. The sentence was directed at Claire more than me, partially because I could barely clear my head.

"I'm coming," declared Claire. Batman nodded and started to walk. At this point, my vision blurred and my entire body felt numb.

I think at that point I began to mumble incoherently, because Claire whispered to me, "Who the _heck_ is Fella?"

"I..." Spots performed an elaborate dance before my eyes, and a ringing noise pronounced itself. Within seconds, everything went black.

* * *

"So... she's not going to die?"

That was the first sentence I heard after I woke. It was Claire. I thanked my lucky stars that I hadn't kicked the bucket already.

"No." Batman's voice spoke this time. "In fact, she's awake."

I opened my eyes cautiously. I was lying on a cot in a large cave. A waterfall roared in the distance. I had no idea where I was, and frankly, I didn't care. I was alive, and that was what mattered.

"Hi, guys," I burbled groggily.

Claire let out a chuckle, but I noticed that she was careful of how much laughing she did in front of Batman. For whatever reason, she seemed to have a sore spot with him. Honestly, I was really glad that he had saved me, despite whatever Claire said. My arm was in a sling, and my shoulder wound still stung like mad, but I was going to be fine, and that was what mattered.

"So..." Claire trailed off. "We need to get going. She's awake enough." I was definitely not eager to go back to the Joker, but Claire seemed insistent.

Batman placed a tray of what looked to be surgical instruments on a small table. "Fine. Tell me where you need to go."

Claire thought for a second. I knew that she was choosing a place far enough from the headquarters so that she didn't raise any suspicion. "By the docks off of 32nd street," she finally decided. I stood up, winced a bit at the pain, and struggled to keep up as she sped out of the cave.

Much to my dismay, we took a normal sports car instead of the Batmobile. The car ride was awkward and quiet, and I thanked him quietly after we were dropped off.

"What now?" I asked Claire after Batman sped off.

"We wait. Trust me, he knows exactly where we are."

Sure enough, two minutes later, a van pulled up and we got inside. I was still curious as to how he knew our location, but I didn't dare ask.

The Joker was driving. He shot a look at my companion.

"Claire," he said, utter disappointment evident in his tone. We fell silent.

As soon as we got back, the Joker took Claire and me into the conference room. He gave me a little grin, and I felt like I would puke. "Go to Claire's room," he smiled.

I gave a sarcastic grimace and stormed off.

Who knew what he was going to do to Claire? She had enough scars and bruises already. But she had associated with Batman. That was like a death sentence.

I sighed and flopped down on the spare bed. I didn't have any choice but to wait it out.

These were the times that I wished that Batman had stayed with us.


End file.
